


FitzDaisy/Skitz Drabbles Collection

by Florchis



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Awkwardness, Drabble Collection, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, F/M, First Kiss, Fluff, Frottage, Hurt/Comfort, Movie Night, Post-Framework, Pre-Relationship, Rain, Secret dating, Showers, Sleepy Sex, s1 au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-14
Updated: 2018-07-30
Packaged: 2019-03-31 11:44:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 12,013
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13974426
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Florchis/pseuds/Florchis
Summary: A collection for all my short romantic and/or ambiguous FitzDaisy stories. Rating varies according to the last chapter posted. The title of each chapter contains its rating.Last chapter: Daisy, Fitz and Simmons get together for regular movie nights. With Jemma on a trip, Daisy kees up the tradition in hope of getting Fitz on board with something else. {Fluff, first kiss}





	1. Desk help girl +awkward client (G)

**Author's Note:**

> This collection will contain all FitzDaisy stories that are romantic in nature, or at least could be interpreted that way. If you don't dig that, that's cool, just don't hate on it.
> 
> My other Collections of stories are:
> 
> [Platonic Drabbles](https://archiveofourown.org/works/11718945/chapters/26396544) All my short stories featuring platonic relationships, including but not limited to some platonic FitzDaisy.  
> [Firzskimmons Drabbles](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12265365/chapters/27874101) All my short stories where Fitz, Jemma and Daisy are in some kind of polyam relationship.  
> [Fitzsimmons Drabbles](https://archiveofourown.org/works/8843422/chapters/20278912) All my short stories featuring romantic Fitzsimmons.  
> [Various-Ships Drabbles](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12002259/chapters/27157152) All my short stories feauturing other relationships not mentioned above, including but not limited to some including Fitz or Daisy.
> 
> I'm currently accepting Fitzskimmons/FitzDaisy prompts.[Here are some Guidelines if you want to send me one! ](http://florchis.tumblr.com/prompt-guidelines)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fitz doesn't know how to ask out the cute girl at the desk help, so he keeps on breaking his phone on purpose.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> From a tumblr prompt: “i’ve been breaking my phone on purpose just because you work at the help desk” AU - Fitzdaisy (I'd dare to say that whoever breaks the phone actually knows more about tech than the other, knowing our babies :D)

Fitz knows that what he is doing is not necessarily terrible, but not beneficial in the long run. He _ knows. _ That doesn’t mean that he knows how to stop.

He also knows that he has gone too far when Hunter calls him out on it.

“So your phone needed another not essential repair that you could have fixed with your eyes closed and a toothpick, hmm?” His friend doesn’t even take his eyes apart from the game he is playing, and Fitz is glad for it, because he is not sure he was able to mask his guilt fast enough.

“What makes you say that?” His voice sounds much higher than normal; dammit, it’s not even necessary to look at his face to know that he is guilty.

“Maybe that you go to the mall to get your phone fixed every thursday at the same hour, which also happens to be the moment you know a certain lovely bird works on the help desk? And don’t even get me started on how you are a bloody engineer!”

“Having a degree in mechanical engineering doesn’t necessarily mean I can fix a cellphone!” He is stuttering and god, he doesn’t even believe himself, how is he going to get other people to believe it? 

Hunter fixes him with a skeptical look, both his eyebrows raised, until he hears the sound of someone getting shot and turns his attention back to the screen, cursing loudly.  

“Maybe that lie works for people with a lower IQ and a better poker face, mate, but it doesn’t work for you.” 

He storms off, trying to look offended, but Hunter doesn’t even humour him, and Fitz rests his back against the door of his bedroom, his eyes closed, his heart thumping on his chest. Hunter is right; he is being ridiculous, and he knows it, but he is shy and Daisy is wonderful- funny, pretty, smart; really, how can there be people on this earth who won the bloody genetic lottery?-, and those two things don’t mix well. 

He has tried coming up with talking topics, but so far the only thing he has been able to do is hand over his phone for her to fix the most absurd thing and then let her chat happily about whatever she wants while he observes her dreamily.

It’s not the best set-up; he believes his brain is the only truly good thing there is about him, and by dumbing it down, he probably has been crushing any chance he might have had with her; if he ever had any, that is.

Besides, she probably has a work policy against dating clients or something like that. Crap.

Well, it doesn’t matter, because she probably wouldn’t ever give the time of day to someone so usele-

Stop.

Just stop.

He takes, one, two breaths in rapid succession, while a harsh voice inside his head- that sounds surprisingly like Simmons- tells him to cut it with the self-hate. It’s easier said than done, of course, but at least he tries to breathe deeply and get his mind to a better place, or at least keep it blank.

It works, even if only a little. He calms down enough to decide that next week he will go see her and ask her out, whatever it takes. And either way, he will leave this ridiculous sham behind.

* * *

Again: easier said than done.

He is not exactly proud, but once again he brought his phone with a small failure, more to use it as an opener than as an excuse.

“Hey, you.” She waves at him the moment he walks through the door of the store, and Fitz blushes, thinking that he’s got enough of a reputation as a walking disaster for her to know instantly that he has come to see her. “What brings you up here today, dude?” 

She is batting her eyelashes at him, and his words get stuck against the back of his throat; he can only stretch his arm and shove his phone on her desk. She snickers at him, but smiles all the same and gently pries open the phone’s back lid while Fitz tries to gather back his wits. 

And then she starts laughing.

Fitz gets startled, the sound getting him out of the reverie where he was looking for his carefully crafted speech, and he leans forward, trying to see what has prompted this reaction out of her.

When he realizes his mistake, he wants to crawl inside a hole and die: Daisy, both unimpressed eyebrows raised, is trying to successfully keep down a smile while she holds between two fingers the battery of his phone: in his eagerness to come see her, he forgot to exchange it with a regular one.

“Now, I have had my suspicions all along, and I’ve been trying to play it cool for your benefit. But a customized extended battery, Fitz? Really? _ Really?” _

He feels the heat raising quickly to his cheeks, and instead of apologies and excuses, he can only blurt out, “what do you mean you were suspicious all along?”

Daisy clicks her tongue, a teasing smile on her lips.

“I mean, your phone manages to need fixing every week, but you never complain about losing info? The damage is never terrible? It never gets here wet or burnt or cracked? That has to mean that it’s being treated with care, even if that care means to carefully  _ break it.”  _ She leans over the counter, her crossed arms giving support to her torso, and Fitz makes a tremendous effort to keep his eyes on hers and not look down at her cleavage. “Now, are you going to tell me why do you actually come here, or not?”  

“Because I want to see you.” He doesn’t even have to think them, the words leave his mouth like they have existed as formed, independent entities for a long time and just now are being set free. “I wasn’t brave enough to ask you out, so I keep coming with excuses to see you. It’s lame and I’m sorry, I was just trying to come up with something interesting enough to say for you to notice me.”

Well, for good or for worse, now the truth is out in the open, and what happens next is out of his hands. If she is going to kick his ass, at least it should be over soon. 

But she is looking at him with her head slightly tilted, seemingly considering what he just said while she licks her lips. Fitz thinks that if she doesn’t kill him herself for being a stalker-y moron, he might die anyway out of the anxiety of not knowing what she is thinking. Finally, she leans back on her chair and casually pushes her hair out of her face.  

“You should know that I don’t date clients.” There it is, the let down he was waiting for. He is not sure if he prefers this, to believe that is a policy and not a personal matter, or to know that she just doesn’t dig him. “So good thing that you don’t actually need my services, hmm?”

When he finally dares raising his head, she is smiling warmly at him. She is _smiling,_ damn, for some reason she is not jumping his throat or frowning in disgust. She is smiling and… did she just imply that she might actually accept to come out with him?

“Do you, um, are you, um-?”

Luckily, she takes him out of his misery. God, they haven’t been on a date yet and already she is too good for him.

“I get off at seven. Pick me up and we can go grab a bite together.” She squeezes his arm, and Fitz is pretty sure he just lost the ability to fully close his mouth. “I think we would make a good pair, after all, this is just a gig to make meets end. I’m actually more of a software gal myself, and I could use someone to show me the, ah, more _ advanced ropes  _ of the hardware.” 

And she _ winks  _ at him, and Fitz is quite sure he won’t make it to the date, if just looking at her now feels like an aneurysm.   


	2. Fitz thanks Daisy after she kisses him (G)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Daisy has been waiting for a while for the right moment to kiss Fitz, and when she finally does, his reaction is not exactly what she expected.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> From a tumblr prompt: "Daisy kisses Fitz for the first time and he’s so shocked/awkward he says “thank you” and walks away leaving a very confused Daisy/skye."

Simmons has been advising Daisy ever since forever that, if she wants things to move along in her relationship with Fitz, she will have to do it herself, because he’d rather die than make a move that might make her uncomfortable, and Simmons keeps insisting that she means that quite literally. 

She likes being cherished, but cherised is not exactly wooed, and she is not old-fashioned. She has no problem with the idea of making the first move herself, but she also wants to be careful; if Fitz is so against the idea of letting her know about his feelings, it can be because he is still tentative about the quality or the quantity of those feelings himself, and Daisy doesn’t want to push him if he is not ready. She is in no rush, she can wait for him to get around.

That doesn’t mean the idea is not constantly doing the rounds in her mind, not as a nagging, dreadful thought, but more like a constant impulse of her muscles towards him.

If they are watching a movie together and their thighs are touching, and she constantly feels him turning slightly to look at her: _ you could kiss him. _

If he is explaining something she doesn’t understand at all, but she can’t help smiling at his enthusiasm: _ you could kiss him. _

If she is training or coding or stretching, and he is looking at her with an adoring look in his eyes: _ you could kiss him. _

It is not an intruding feeling, but little by little it starts becoming an all-encompassing one: whenever it is, wherever they are, whatever they are doing, every little thing is a good reason to kiss him, every place is a good place to kiss him, every time is a good time to kiss him. Wanting to kiss him starts being a second skin, something she carries around with herself at all times, carefully tucked close to her heart and _ you could kiss him  _ starts turning into _ you _ should  _ kiss him. _

It’s a sentiment that she barely can keep contained inside anymore: she wonders sometimes if he feels it as strongly as she does, and, if that is the case, how does he do to deal with it.

She blames _that-_ the need and the desire and just the general concept of kissing him that now surrounds her completely and seeps into her actions and her thoughts and her feelings constantly- for when it happens.

She has been on the lab waiting for him to come back from a mission- something simple, nothing risky, but she prefers to be sure that everyone made it back okay and to see his face before heading to bed. Besides, someone needs to make sure that Simmons keeps sane working hours when Fitz is not around.

Simmons is in the kitchen, making tea for the both of them, and Daisy is sitting cross legged on a bench, working on the base’s firewall, when she raises her head and sees Fitz standing on the door of the lab, still wearing the tactic gear, his curls wild, the longer-than-usual stubble and his tired eyes sure telltales of his fatigue. 

It all happens very quickly, she sees him and a smile spreads through her face, making her feel tingly and warm, and he gets to her side in three strides, and when he is leaning over to hug her, Daisy turns her head just a couple inches and instead of his lips landing on her cheek, they press against her own.

It’s at the same time something deliberate and not; it wasn’t planned, but it isn’t an accident either. It’s the ineludible resolution of the last few months and the soft intimacy they had been building together, of many hours spent in companionable silence and a myriad of meaningful touches and unspoken agreements.

It’s a comfortable position for both their necks, and his hands were already gripping her shoulders, she places her own hand on his cheek to draw him closer, to make the kiss calm but intense, her tongue just barely tickling his lower lip, his shaking breaths making a nest inside her lungs so she can always carry him close.

It was casual and natural and it’s just about perfect.

Fitz is the one who breaks the kiss, both his hands shaking terribly, and just when Daisy is about to make a joke to clear the air, he pats her on the shoulder, twice, whispers _ thank you _ in a deadpan voice, makes a 180 degrees spin and leaves the lab at a fast pace while Daisy gapes after him. 

When Simmons comes back with two mugs of tea, announcing that she heard they are back, Daisy is still sitting in the same position, her eyes fixed on the lab door, incapable of deciphering what just happened.

“You won’t believe what just happened,” she announces to Simmons, too perplexed to be hurt or angry.

“Mmm?”

“I just kissed Fitz.” Only then she turns around to look at Simmons, who is trying to successfully hide her smile under the edge of her mug, her eyes shining with interest. “I kissed him, I mean, _ we  _ kissed, because he kissed me back, but then…” She turns back towards the glass doors, like they will make her realize that everything has been only a hallucination. “Then he patted my back, thanked me and straight up left!” 

Only now there is a small tinge of panic rising in her stomach; what if she misread everything, from his longing glances to Simmons’s pretty direct hints? What if she just fucked up an amazing friendship because she couldn’t keep it in her pants?

Daisy is so focused on trying to keep the panic down that she almost misses Simmons rolling her eyes out of her skull.

“I swear to god, do I have to do everything myself?” Only then Daisy turns back to look at her friend, and realizes that she looks like she wants to bang her head against the lab counter. She must look too much like a deer caught in headlights, because Jemma pats her hand, even if the gesture is more condescending than comforting. “There are 99% chances that he is panicking, Daisy.”

“Why would he be panicking, when _ I  _ am the one who kissed him?”

Simmons gives her a knowing smile laced with tenderness.

“Have you met him? For Fitz, there is not such thing as a reason good enough to _ not  _ panic about something.” 

“Oh.”

“Yes. I’m not saying it’s good or rational, but it is what it is.” Simmons tightens her ponytail, trying to look casual, but Daisy can look right through her bullshit. “I’m not saying you _should_ go looking for him, I’m just saying that is what _I_ would do if I were you.”

Daisy nibbles on her lower lip, considering her options while Simmons gets slowly back to work. Finally, she decides that they can not live in this uncertainty- she definitely can’t- and one way or another, this needs to be solved. She stretches her back and gets up, a new determination on her face.

Before leaving, she gives Simmons a side hug. “Thank you, babes. You are amazing.”    

Simmons pretends to play it cool, like they are talking about what to get for brunch, but Daisy can see the smile tugging at the corners of her lips.

“I know!"

* * *

It takes not one, not two, but three sets of persistent knocks on Fitz’s door before he opens it. At first sight, things look better than Daisy expected; she was prepared for him to had been crying, or being in the middle of an anxiety attack, but instead he just looks really tired and a little bit closed off.

“Daisy.” He has opened the door just a couple of inches, and his head looks almost comical jutting out from between the door and the frame. He doesn’t invite her in, and the contrast immediately takes her back to the countless nights she spent there cuddling platonically against him, the many times she has cried in his arms there, and the inside jokes that had been born in this room. 

It strikes her like lightning, the sheer force of her feelings, and though she puts on a brave facade and smiles through it, she is shaking like crazy.

“Hey, Fitz. Can we talk?”

“Yes.” His lips say _ yes, _ but his eyes say _ no, _ and he doesn’t move from his spot.

“Can I, um, can I come in?”

He sighs like that is exactly the question he was dreading, and his eyes flutter closed for an instant. When he opens them again, they are tinted with hurt.

“I think you can perfectly dump me from there, thank you very much.”

_ What? _

“What?”

“I will save you your breath: it was all an accident and a mistake, I should never have kissed you back, and I apologize. We can still be friends, I promise. Just allow me one night of wallowing in my misery, okay? Tomorrow it will be like nothing ever happened.”

“I don’t want to pretend like nothing happened.”  

Only then he looks her in the eyes, his own completely confused, and Daisy wonders how someone so smart can be at the same time so dumb.

“Why not?”

She places her hand on the edge of the door; he doesn’t complain, but instead of pushing it, she only takes a step closer, testing their boundaries.

“Because it wasn’t a mistake. Not from my side, at least. Was it a mistake for you?”

He scoffs, in the same tone he uses to say _ bugger off.  _

“Yeah, right, because getting to kiss the girl I have a tremendous crush on is such a _burden.”_

She was almost sure of the way he feels, but to hear it in his voice, to feel validated in the way she has been living life the last couple of months is a nice, uplifting feeling, and it emboldens her to move her hand from the door to his jaw. 

“They say that you can not make the same mistake twice, because the first time it was a mistake, but the second time it is a decision.” He is biting his lip, trembling slightly, and his hold on the door loosens enough for her to gently push it open a little with her shoulder. “What if I tell you that the only mistake about that kiss would be to never do it again?”

They are so close that Daisy can already feel his ragged breathing on her skin; it’s exhilarating and maddening, all at the same time.

“I’d tell you that this is not a joke for me, Daisy.”

She considers for a moment going the serious route, making a grand, lavish, love declaration of sorts on the spot. But that is what _ he  _ does, not her, and he will come around making it himself, she is sure. Instead, she just can not wait any longer to kiss him.

“Open the door, you moron,” she tells him, and once she is just an inch away from his lips, she whispers, “I can’t believe I’m the one who kissed you, and you still can’t believe that I want this.”

She waits a beat in case he actually wants to retreat, but he is looking at her with wide eyes, his chin trembling, and Daisy leans over and kisses him again. He lets go of the door then to place his hands on her waist and draw her flush against his chest. It’s different than the kiss in the lab was, maybe because now she knows a little bit about what to expect, maybe because even though he kissed her back, now she is being purposeful about letting him lead and at the same time show him how much into this she is. Daisy takes a step forward, and Fitz takes the hint and walks back inside his bunk, without breaking the kiss or letting go of her waist. 

Once they have kissed each other breathless, he moves his mouth to kiss down her cheek and then up her neck, making her shiver and gasp, her hands tightening around his shoulders. He parts with one last lingering kiss behind her ear, and it’s a little disorienting to look at this man- who is her friend but also was just kissing her speechless- flustered and looking sheepish.

“In my defense, I was the one who thanked you and left. I wouldn’t date someone like that.”

She punches him playfully on the chest, a little because that is the way their dynamic works, a lot because he needs to know that she wants this, and they both deserve it.  

“Well, good that I am not you, then.” 


	3. Sleepy sex (M)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They so rarely get the luxury of sleeping in that Daisy believes they have earned themselves the right to bask in it for as long as they can.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> From a tumblr prompt: "sleepy sex"

They get so rarely the luxury of sleeping in that Daisy believes they have earned themselves the right to bask in it for as long as they can. That’s why- despite the fact that she has already hit the snooze button one time too many- she presses it again and closes her eyes, fully soaking herself in the sunlight coming from the ajar shutters. She can tell that Fitz is not asleep anymore, because he is completely silent- he doesn’t exactly snore, but there is a soft wheeze to his breathing when he is sleeping-, and also because of the vibrant energy coming from his body pressed tight against hers, and bouncing on her sun-warm skin.

She wiggles her ass against him and is rewarded with a little humming of approval. She can't help smiling still with her eyes closed when she notices that he is definitely hard against her thighs.

“Aren’t we having a good morning?” she teases him good-naturedly, and she feels a kick of happiness at him crossing an arm over her waist to press his hand against her abdomen instead of feeling ashamed and closing himself off.

“‘Course. I got to sleep in. With you.” His voice is rough with sleep still, and she strokes her fingers against the back of his hand. She likes him like this; he is usually open and sweet with her, but during these intimate moments he acts like this is a right he has earned instead of his fatal flaw.

“But sleep is not at the forefront of your mind right now, is it?”

She rubs her backside a little harder against his pelvis, until it earns her a half choked moan that he hides against the crook of her neck.

“Sorry.” His tone suggests that he is not sorry at all, but they always play a little the teasing, hard-to-get game with each other.

He kisses down her neck, tugs on the sleeve of his old t-shirt that she uses to sleep in to expose her collarbone and keeps kissing her there. They are butterfly kisses, light and soft like the sunlight, and Daisy feels a pleasant rumble running through her entire body at the contact. She lets him do whatever he wants until he starts using his teeth on her shoulder, small nibbles that give her goosebumps, and she moves his hand to her breast. His breath hitches. That’s one of the good things of having sex with Fitz: everything still carries weight and feels important like the first time.

“Let me show you how _not_ sorry _I_ am.” She twists her upper body to reach the bottle of lube she has on her nightstand- no, she does not feel shame whatsoever for that-, and squirts a little on her palm. “Lower your pants.” He follows her instruction without a second thought, and Daisy brings her arm back in order to give his cock a well-lubed stroke. “That’s a good boy.”

He makes a half noise that she guesses was supposed to be an indignant protest, but instead is eaten out by a moan. She places his cock in the curve between her thighs and her ass, and squeezes her legs. He bites, hard, on her shoulder in retaliation, and then she is the one that has to keep her appreciation quiet.

“In case you were wondering how I feel about late mornings in bed with you.” She moves to her mouth his hand that was gently massaging her breast and starts lavishing his fingers with her tongue while she pushes her ass against him to increase the friction and encourage him to move.

He clumsily taps her nose and then her lips with one finger, asking her to let it go, and she parts with it with a last kiss to his palm. He brings the hand back to her abdomen, this time under her t-shirt, his fingers splayed wid,e and he is always warm, but right now the contact skin on skin is an ember setting her aflame. He uses the leverage on her body to impulse his movement, his upper body completely draped over hers, and his erection rubbing against the cradle of her legs.

Daisy closes her eyes, the sun high on the sky bringing a explosion of white light behind her closed lids, and she can feel the shudders going through Fitz’s body in her own veins. It might not be a race towards her own release, but she relishes the feeling of him surrounding her completely, warm and solid against her back, his movements still a little lazy with sleep. He is always so selfless in the bedroom that Daisy thinks that she would never got this reaction out of him if he wasn’t still vulnerable from being in this little cocoon of tenderness that is their bed; this, him being hungry but fuzzy around the edges, his lips trembling against the sensitive skin of her neck, is as much a gratifying experience for her as it is for him.

She is usually a lot more talkative during sex- more than him, at least-, but this time she lets him monopolize the talking, his voice going rough and his brogue growing thicker with every second, his statements varying from terms of endearment to different kinds of appreciation, the cadence of his voice accompanying the rhythm of his hand that moves from her abdomen to her hip. They are existing in a moment out of time, where there is nothing but them and this.

But there is time and there is stimulation and there is enough, and she knows that the tightening of his fingers on her waist is a warning, and she snakes a hand between their bodies to finish him off deftly without messing up the sheets. She leaves him spent on the bed and goes to the bathroom to wash up her hands; when she comes back into the bedroom, wet washcloth in hand, she feels his eyes lavishing her skin with attention while she takes of her- _his-_ t-shirt.

She leaves the washcloth over his abdomen, making him yelp, stands at the edge of the bed, her movements deliberate and slow, and arches her back. Fitz takes the hint and starts gently scrubbing clean her lower back, her bum, her thighs. Daisy hums in appreciation when he replaces the cloth with his mouth, sucking a kiss on the hollow of her back, his hands on her knees making her stand with her legs wide apart.                        

There are a few long moments when he seems to be just inhaling the scent of her skin, his nose pressed tight against her back, but he finally places his hands on her waist, inviting her to turn around. She does, only to find him on his knees, hair still mused, his eyes bluer than ever while he stares up at her with a heated gaze. That is another thing that she always finds thrilling about sex with Fitz: the power dynamics are not obvious, and he can be obedient and devoted while fucking her into next year and commanding while on his knees.

There is a smile tickling up the corners of his mouth, his eyes grinning mischievously, and Daisy whimpers, finally fully aware of the throbbing heat between her legs.

“Good morning indeed, love.”

“Oh, really? That is your line?” She is trying to sound sarcastic, but the statement loses its bite if her voice is trembling.

He spreads both his hands on the down curve of her ass, and pushes her towards him. Her body takes a stuttering step, craving the closeness and the heat and the satisfaction of only a couple minutes prior. Fitz nuzzles his nose against the hair at the top of her legs: her knees are already betraying her and he has barely even touched her.

“Yeah. Let me show you why.”   


	4. Daisy helps Fitz fend off some unwanted attention (G)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When she poses as a bartender, Daisy is more than happy to help clients fend off unwanted attention.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> From a tumblr prompt: “there’s a real creep at the club trying to hit me up right now and you look pretty fit so pls pretend to be my date so he can leave” only it Fitz talking to Daisy

Daisy wipes the counter clean and scans the entire bar for any potential problems on the making. It’s a quiet night, being a week night and everything, few people and the music having a soft, backseat kind of vibe; it’s music to flirt to, music to pretend that the problems from outside don’t exist, or to drink them into obliviousness- luckily she doesn’t have any forceful drinkers right now at the bar; it is not music to dance. 

She likes the ambiance of the place like this, maybe even a little more than the upbeat one that it has during the weekends, and that’s partly why she sighted dramatically but said yes when Trip asked her to take this night shift. She has moved to a different kind of job- no, she can not tell you _ what  _ kind: it’s classified-, but a friend is a friend, especially when said friend has a wedding in the making, and she doesn’t mind being here. She can even pretend that it helps her hone her skills for the field: predicting people’s movements and desires, pretending to care about what they are telling her, letting the troublesome customers know, subtly, that she won’t tolerate any bullshit. She can pretend that she is undercover without the actual weight of the world on her shoulders, and even sway a little to the rhythm of the soft jazz music.

She is closing a tab for a client when a man comes to a halt in front of the counter, opens wide his eyes and leans exaggeratedly towards her, almost bending his body in half.

“There you are, honey!” He sounds almost hysteric, and his tone makes Daisy flinch more than his words. He comes dangerously close to her, and when she is about to elbow him on the nose just out of instinct, he whispers in an unhinged voice, “Please, _ please,  _ just play along with it.”

She puts a hand on his shoulder in order to prevent him from moving, and looking over his shoulder, she notices a man on the bulky side frowning at them. She looks down at her intruder once more, and finds a man around her age, terrified blue eyes looking up at her, and a pair of hands shaking in front of his chest. He looks like the less threatening thing she has ever seen, but one can never be too sure with this kind of people.

“Is he giving you a hard time?” she asks in a low whisper, her mouth twisting in a way that makes it look like she is telling him something dirty.

His cheeks colour quickly, his lips trembling, but finally he gives her one tight nod. It probably isn’t easy for a guy to accept that he needs help in dealing with another dude, and Daisy can respect that. 

“Oh, sweet cheeks, I missed you so much!” she proclaims it loudly enough to be heard over the background music, and she leans over to place a kiss on his lips for good measure.

The contact is brief, just a few seconds of chaste lips against lips, but it seems to work its magic, because when Daisy raises her head again, the bulky dude is gone.

“There. All clear.” She pats him on the shoulder with a reassuring smile, and while he looks like he might throw up any minute, he squeezes her arm in a sign of gratitude.

“Thank you so much, and I’m really sorry. I don’t usually do stuff like this, but he wouldn’t take no for an answer.”

Daisy puts an empty glass over the counter and while she fills it with a caramel-coloured liquid, makes a mental note to keep an eye out for that guy in case he decides to show his face again around here on her watch. She is not out to get his head just yet, but it makes her blood boil to know that there might be people who try to force themselves on others just two feet away from her.

“We are cool. Here, have a drink on the house.” She winks at him, and then feels a little weird about it. Was she trying to lift his spirits? To make this moment feel less filled with gravitas? “You sure look like you need it.”

He knocks it down in one gulp, and Daisy makes an impressed sound on the back of her throat. He keeps his head down, looking at his hands that are still trembling, and Daisy takes a look around to check that nothing out of the ordinary is going on and that the place is getting progressively empty before sitting on a stool close to him.

“Hey. Wanna talk about it?”

He makes a grimace that makes him look like a disgruntled child, and Daisy can’t help but smile.

“What is there to talk about? I can’t even defend myself against unwanted attentions. What does that say about me?”

“Hey, none of that. Asking the staff is one of the best ways to get help. You did the right thing there,-”

“Fitz.”

“Daisy. Not your regular bartender, but one that will always be happy to shoo away creepy dudes.” 

He finally smiles at that, and Daisy can see the liquid courage reaching his eyes.

“Full disclosure: I didn’t choose you to help me because you were staff; I did it because you look like the kind of woman that won’t tolerate shit from anyone.” He gives her a not so subtle once over and his eyes cloud over at her arms. Daisy grins. “And, um, it looks like you have the means to back up your rights.” 

Daisy rolls up her sleeves a little, without bothering to make it look casual, just to tease him, and his breath hitches. She is not saying go about this just yet, but being appreciated it’s always nice.

“That is me, Daisy Johnson, buff bartender slash fake girlfriend at your service.” And this time her wink is slow and deliberate, and she raises a challenging eyebrow till he takes the hint and moves his stool an inch closer to hers. 

So much for this feeling almost like undercover. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case you are wondering about my stance on this relationship after 5x14, you can read about it [here](http://florchis.tumblr.com/post/172364889241/dear-followers-this-is-a-small-note-to-let-you). I have not seen 5x15 yet.


	5. Secret dating S1 AU (T)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's not that Skye is jealous of Simmons, not exactly, but she was not prepared to have to witness their relationship up close.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> From a prompt: "Daisy get jealous of another woman and have her claim Fitz". This is a realy tame version of that. This includes positive mentions of Simmons and her (platonic here) relationship with Fitz. 
> 
> Also, secret dating AU version of S1, because I was weirdly craving them together in S1. Inspired by the infamous, "When you get back, I’ll show you my thing. A thing. It’s not-, it’s my hardware. My equipment. Let’s hang up."

The darkness and the closed, unknown space are thrilling, she will give him that.

What is not thrilling at all is the wait.

Okay, she is not a patient person, she knows, but still, what can be taking him so long? The directives were clear, and she reads them once again from her phone for reassurance: _Control room. Five minutes._

She didn’t have it easy, because she is a stranger in here, a non-trusted stranger at that, and Agent Ward is still looking over her shoulder like a hawk; luckily, she might not be a spy, but she has skills nonetheless, and she knows how to shake off unwanted attention and distract pursuers.

She understands how it can he harder for him, who has responsabilities and has to meet a certain criteria and can not just walk off whenever he feels like it. And that is not even taking Simmon into consideration.

The famous Jemma Simmons. It required an immense amount of willpower for Skye to not blurt out her name and all the details that she already knows about the other girl; curiously, it was even harder than pretending to not know Fitz, that hadn’t been a menial task, but at least it was one that she had mentally prepared herself for, while meeting the best friend of her- _her what?_ -... childhood friend, was something she hadn’t anticipated.

She opens up the gallery on her phone out of habit, but closes it immediately, tapping the screen anxiously instead; there is nothing in her phone about him, no picture of them she can use to calm down her nerves, no sweet message to keep her mind focused, no audio of his voice to center her down: they had to be as thorough as possible in trying to conceal their past if they wanted this to work.

She is nibbling on her lower lip, wondering how five minutes can feel like five hours in the right- or wrong- circumstances, when finally- _finally-_ the door opens and a silhouette enters the room. It gives her a second-long shiver of doubt, because it could actually be anyone, but the instant he touches her, she calms down; she could recognize the hands that grab her hips and press her against the wall anywhere. After the hesitation, everything is certain: the smell of his after-shave and the texture of his shirt and his ragged breathing, and her knees go weak while he kisses down her throat hungrily.

“Ah, you weren’t lying when you said you wanted to show me your _equipment,_ ” she teases him, and he groans against her skin.

“There is no way you are gonna let that slip, isn’t there?”

“Nope.” She pops the ‘p’, and takes advantage of his whining distraction to curl both her index fingers around his belt loops and draw him closer. “There is nothing to be ashamed of about your hardware.”

Fitz huffs and the sudden gust of air against her overheated skin makes her shiver.

“That is not like you, to overdo compliments.”

“Mind you, I compliment you all the time!”

He glares at her, and Skye wants to protest that he is willing to stop lavishing her neck in order to prove a point.  

“Yeah, but not without a biting edge to it.”

Okay, fair is fair, and instead of conceding defeat, she grabs his neck and crashes their mouths together. This is her style of kissing, hungry and fast, and not that much his, but desperate times call for desperate measures, and on top of an entire day of having to dance around each other feigning innocence, they haven’t had a true moment alone together in months.

She yanks open his belt, and sneaks her hand inside his trousers, making him curse against her lips. She knows he is craving for more, he probably wants to unwrap her and make her come apart, but they have this, and they can sacrifice intimacy for the greater good, or at least that’s how she convinced him to come along with this, and how she tries to convince herself on moments of self-doubt.

“I’m sorry, we can’t all be supportive and sweet like your picture perfect lab partner.” There is no actual bite in her voice, just a teasing edge, and Fitz groans while circling his hips.

“One, if you think supportive and sweet is all Simmons is, you have seen nothing of her. And, two, please don’t talk about Simmons while your hand is in my pants.”

She can’t help a jolt of pride inside her chest; despite everything, this moment can still be completely theirs.

Fitz lowers his head and nuzzles open the flaps of her shirt, dropping kisses from the hollow of her throat to the roots of her breasts. She swallows down a moan- they need to be quiet, after all- and tightens her firs in retaliation, but it only makes Fitz grace his teeth against her sensitive skin.

“Why? Are you afraid that your brain might wander down dark paths or what?”

“Skye.” His voice sounds dead serious while he looks into her eyes, and it makes her pause. It’s not often that he uses that kind of voice on her. He takes both her hands and presses them flat against the wall, his own palms holding them there. She is not much of the submissive type, but she likes when he is tender and at the same time assertive, and he is really hot with this soft aura of dominance. “Are you jealous of Jemma?”

She could lie to him, deny everything, or even kiss him again and deflect the attention. She could, but they have know each other for a long time, and he is risking his neck for her, and she is not gonna _say_ that she loves him, but she loves him.

“I’m just wary of the competition.”

His eyes soften at that, and Skye is glad he is pinning her against the wall with his body on so many points, because that look on his eyes makes her lose the ability to hold herself upright.

They have never talked much about what this mean, the limits and the implications of what is going on between them. She knows Fitz would like to go _steady-_ yep, he is old-fashioned like that-, and she would pretend to put up a fight, but there won’t be any actual question on her mind. There is no actual question on her mind right now.

But they have tacitly agreed that first they need to sort out the issue with her past, and everything else can come next.

There is a long pause between them, and finally he brings one of her hands down to kiss the inside of her wrist.             

“There is no competition, Skye.” He places her hand on his own cheek, waits, considers. “Simmons is… I’m not gonna lie, Simmons is a fundamental person in my life. I don’t know what kind of person I would be without her, and I don’t wanna find out. But I don’t, I don’t-” He cuts himself short, and Skye bites down her lip; she knows which words he is not saying, and that she is okay with not hearing them yet doesn’t mean she doesn’t _want_ to hear them. “I don’t feel for Simmons the way I feel for you,” he finally settles, and it’s a pretty tame statement, but it makes her heart rate speed up, and that is enough.

She strokes his lips with the thumb of the hand he is still holding near his face, and then leans over to catch his lips on a kiss.   

“Good. Because I’m not letting you go without a fight.”      


	6. Hurt/comfort + shower sex (T)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After she gets cleared up from her bullet wound, Skye goes looking for Fitz and has a conversation with him. In the shower.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> From a tumblr prompt: "FitzDaisy hurt/comfort with a side of shower smut".
> 
> This is not quite smut, rated T for nakedness, making out, mentions of erections and hints to more. Established relationship, S1 AU.

When Simmons finally gives her the green light of complete health, the first thing Skye does is, understandably, go looking for Fitz.

She is a little surprised, even, that he wasn’t by her side, eagerly waiting for the report, with the way he has been unwaveringly taking care of her for the last couple of weeks. But well, she also understands: he does have things to do and responsibilities to take care of, and even without those, if he had been there she would have been guilty of shamelessly provoking him, and Fitz doesn’t handle well her advances when Simmons is present. He claims that no, is not because he is a little bit prudish, but because Simmons is his best friend and he wants to preserve the good forms with her. Skye teases him that he can tell himself whatever lie makes him feel better.

All in all, is not actually a bad thing, because he is not in the lab or in his bunk, but in the showers when she finally finds him, and she is really looking forward to scrubing her own skin clean of the smell of the med bay, and, honestly, _best timing ever._

She feels no guilt whatsoever when she locks down the showers’ door: she has been in bed rest for three weeks, their teammates have to understand that she has needs. She gets chills when she takes of her shirt and her jeans, standing on the cold air only in her underwear after so much time of being overheated under too many covers. She feels alive, her body responding to every stimuli, and even though she runs a hand self-consciously over the scar on her belly, she is so so grateful for this moment.

She decides to not overdo it, and knocks lightly on the door of the stall before opening; she wants to give Fitz a surprise, not a heart attack. He is startled anyway, turns around covering himself and exhales sharply when he sees it’s her, smiling at him and standing there in all her lavender underwear glory.

“Skye! What are you doing here?”

He is scowling but automatically moves to make some space for her when she enters the stall and without asking for permission turns a little up the temperature of the water.

“I am, a, saving water by showering with you, and, b, taking advantage of Simmons clearing me up for any and all kind of activities, wink wink, nudge nudge.”

He doesn’t smile at her innuendo, and Skye frowns. She knows he is a shy guy, not exactly prone to shameless displays, but ever since they started being intimate he is been opening up more and more with her, and she has been loving every minute of it. Right now, instead, he is closed off like the first day, and it’s disorientating, because she wants nothing more than to kiss him senseless.

“You need rest, Skye.” His voice is stern, similar enough to the tone Simmons uses when someone is trying to argue with her medical opinions for her to back off.

“You don’t want me anymore?” She regrets the question almost immediately when she sees the hurt in his eyes, but she doesn’t know how to hold down her tongue when she is panicking; after all, she won’t hold it against him if he is now turned off by her ineptitude to defend herself and by her damaged body.

_Boy, that escalated quickly._

“What? No!” The high pitch of his voice comforts her a little- he always speaks on a higher tone when he is being truthful-, but she still crosses her arms over her body, feeling self-conscious. She is grateful now that she didn’t join him stark naked. “That’s not the issue at all!”

“Then what it is?” She is uncomfortable and feeling insecure, but she still takes his hand and hauls him closer, so they can both be under the shower spray. She doesn’t want him catching a cold because of her, after all.

“Skye.” His hands go to her face, his voice soft, and Skye closes her eyes to not burst into tears. This bout of uncertainty sucks, but she missed this closeness and this intimacy and his gentle touch, oh, so much. “What makes you think that I might not like you anymore? I’m crazy about you, you know that.”

“Dunno.” She looks down, and damn, their bare feet look really cute standing together like that. Maybe Simmons was wrong, and she is ready for any physical challenge but not for the freaking rollercoaster that are _emotions._ “Maybe that after weeks of not touching each other you freaked out at me trying to get it on with you?”

Fitz tilts his head, processing the information, and Skye bites her lip. She really likes his focused face, but it’s a little unnerving to have it focused on her when she is not sure if the concentration comes from something good or not.

“Did you think that, what, you suddenly stopped turning me on? Because, believe me, there is nothing further from the truth.” He raises his eyebrows pointedly and looks down, and Skye follows his lead, and though it still feels a little like a sob, she can not help letting out a chuckle at seeing him half-hard. “Just thinking about being with you again has been enough to get me half going these last few weeks, Skye. But I was worried sick about you. I still am.” He starts rubbing gentle circles on her cheeks with his thumbs, and Skye closes her eyes. “I care about you so much, and I don’t want to hurt you.”

“You won’t hurt me. We gotta trust Simmons’s medical opinion on this.” She makes sure to use a nasal tone of voice, and he laughs a little. “Besides, we won’t be doing anything adventurous. Not yet.” She winks at him and he smiles. “And we can communicate and I trust you.”

“Okay.” He leans over to kiss her, and she has never been more grateful for this man twiddling with every system and every accommodation on the Bus, because they can have hot water for as long as they want, and she wants this kiss to never end.

He is fingering the strap of her bra, and she breaks the kiss to tell him to take it off. He unhooks it with just one hand, but then takes his sweet time taking each strap down her shoulders, pausing every few millimeters to drop a kiss on different patches of her water-warm skin; by the time he is done taking it off, she is whimpering in need. At any other time, he would be smugly looking at her from under his lashes, full of himself, but now he is just intense, carefully placing her bra over the stall wall and putting his hand on her hips to draw her closer.

“This doesn’t have to be something risky, but it can be an opportunity still.” He places both his hands on her back, splayed wide over her shoulder blades. “I want to touch every inch of your body. I want to memorize the beating of your heart, the warmth of your skin.” He moves his hands down her back and to her butt, and yet he makes it feel like a romantic movement instead of a lewd one.  She is not exactly a fan of sappy statements, but he has them mastered, and she might be starting to develop a taste for them after all. “You are right. You are here and you are alive, and I want to cherish that.”

“Good.” She moves his hands a little up, until she cna hook his thumbs on the edge of her panties. “Then make this a moment we can both always remember.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * I would totally be down for something more smutty ffeaturing a shower, if someone has a more specific idea in mind!


	7. Rain (T)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Daisy takes a moment to breathe outside while the team is on the diner, and has an interesting chat with Fitz (Post-FW, canon divergence).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: mentions of addictive behavior, suicidal behavior, brainwashing. 
> 
> From a prompt that requested "a look into Daisy’s thoughts about Fitz in the framework and the people who made him like that".
> 
> This fills the "FitzDaisy: rain" square in my [ MCU Bingo Card](http://florchis.tumblr.com/post/174965037436/this-is-the-temporary-masterpost-i-will-be-using)
> 
> I'm accepting prompts for it and for my[ MCU Kink Bingo Card.](http://florchis.tumblr.com/post/175123302736/mcu-kink-bingo-card-2018) too. If you want, you can look for some inspiration in my [Visual Prompts List](http://florchis.tumblr.com/post/174316812926/visual-promptswriting-references) (warnings for NSFW descriptions and links that take to NSFW pictures).

One thing Daisy doesn’t think she would ever be able to truly swallow down from this life is just having to accept whatever curveball is thrown at them, lowering her head and just keep on with her life. She may pretend that she can, sure, for the sake of everything, but inside she feels she is entitled to a little of falling apart.

She waits till they are all in the dinner to say that she needs a bit of fresh air and goes outside. The air is damp; rain is just around the corner, and the stormy clouds in the sky very well reflect her current mood. Her family is inside debating over pie, and she’s got to go back inside and cherish that event that happens once in a blue moon, but she can’t do it while she is still carrying a fist clenched on her heart.

She leans on the outer wall of the diner and tugs at the sleeves of her jacket. Sometimes she wishes she has taken up smoking, both for the excuse it would give her to be alone without raising any suspicions, and to have something to do with her restless hands. She doesn’t really wish it, but the itch of addiction is still there, always there on her brain, and sometimes the need to scratch it gets stronger than other times. She closes her eyes and breathes. She will get through that and she will get through this, _they_ will get through this, she just needs a moment to breathe.

A little bit of rain on her face wouldn’t hurt either.

“Hey.”

His voice is soft, and yet somehow she recoils at hearing it. She had heard the door opening, of course, but of all the people on the team, him coming for her was probably last on her list. Still, she doesn’t want him to think that she blames him, because she _doesn’t,_ she is just going through a stage of readjustment. _You go through too much too fast, you are entitled to your time to process,_ says a voice in her mind that sounds surprisingly like Dr. Garner. Daisy shakes it away. He was, after all, one of the things on that list.

“Hey, you.”

He stands near the door, hands in his pockets, unsure of getting closer. She wonders if the hesitation is for her sake or his. There is a shadow on his face that she would like to wipe away, but what happened to him happened to him, no matter how much she fucking _hates_ it, and he needs to go through his own process. _If_ they were blessed enough to have a moment to breathe, to process.

To feel the light rain running down his features, and just breathe.

“You should take some time off.” Fitz looks like she has hit him, and she can not exactly blame him; she surprised herself with her statement, but she is realizing that it has come directly from her guts, from the itch on her brain to get any kind of fix, from the tug on her solar plexus towards him, from her hands with clenched fists that want nothing more than to promise him he won’t have to suffer anymore.

“I’m sorry.” His face is full of grief, the shadow growing darker, and Daisy wants to pull him closer, pretend that the rain and she are enough to wash away his sorrows. They aren’t. “I know you don’t want me here, I, um, I can tell Coulson, um, maybe the moment is not the best, but, um, probably they don’t want me here either, eh? Hydra, um, Hydra leader and everything, hmm?”

“No.” He was rambling and gapes at her when she interrupts, voice firm and steady. “You are wrong, Fitz. There is nothing I want more than to… kiss your demons away. Pretend you are gonna get better because we want you to. But it doesn’t work that way. I should know.”

He crosses his arms over his chest, a clear telltale of discomfort, and a tight knot forms on Daisy’s throat.

“Because being away worked great for you.”

She swallows hard. Just because he doesn’t use it against her often, it doesn't mean that they don't know each other bare, and that what often is a strength, can be a weakness too.

“It didn’t work for me because I ran away from my problems. You staying here would be doing exactly the same. Pretending that you are okay. Pretending that you are not wounded. Pretending that there is not a voice eating at the inside of your brain.” He winces, and she dares take a step forward. He doesn’t retrocede. “I know it was not the same, and we are not gonna get in a competition of who got it worse, because who fucking cares. But I know a little about what it feels like when someone messes up with your brain.” Her clothes are completely wet by now, and taking another step into his personal warmth gives her chills. “And I don’t want you to end up the way I did.”

She moves her hands slowly, and when he doesn’t recoil, she places both of them on his elbows. He crumbles under her touch, and soon Daisy has an armful of Fitz weeping on her already soaked jacket. She holds him and doesn’t let go. The shaking caused by crying should be distressing to her, but instead is cleansing like she could never have imagined.

“I still don't understand why you don’t hate me for who I was in there.”

Daisy shakes her head no, though she can not see the gesture, and places a soft kiss on the side of his jaw.

“The person you was in there made me more grateful for who you are in here. Maybe you could have become like the Doctor? Who fucking cares. I know I don’t. Instead, it made me love more fiercely the caring, loving, _good_ person you are in here. With me. Where it counts.”

He doesn’t say anything, but his breathing is not regular, and Daisy realizes that in the middle of the hug, they have moved away from the small roof on top of the door, and now they are both getting soaked. It is okay. Maybe rain cannot heal all his wounds, but it won’t harm him.

“I understand that it’s not that easy for you, Fitz. That’s why I told you to take some time off. Go home. Visit your mom. Learn gaelic from your grandma’s notebooks. Press flowers into books and then send them to Jemma. Write a bucket list. See a therapist. Volunteer somewhere. Learn a new recipe. Just lay outside and bask in the sun. Remember what it feels like to be alive, and to be _you,_ Fitz. I will be waiting when you are ready to come back.”

She worries for a moment that she has overstepped a line when he doesn’t say anything, but they had been together for two years now, and friends for longer than that. If he needs someone to tell him things how they are, she always will be that person for him. Finally, he murmurs softly against her hair,

“I think you have a profound misconception of how weather actually is in Scotland.”

She can’t help but laugh at that. They don’t deserve this, but they will come on the other side of it better than before.

“Maybe I am just aiming for you to take me and show me.”

He looks her in the eyes, and she can see all the love, and the gratitude he feels for her, and yes, the shadow it is still there. She takes upon herself to not shake under the weight of its existence.                      

“Come with me and I will.”

She hesitates for a moment. Usually, she doesn’t allow herself the fantasy of a quiet life and all the things she just wished to him, despite the fact that she has her own baggage full of issues and merely months ago she was wandering in a suicidal path.

Maybe having the time to deal with stuff is just a matter of taking it, after all.

“Let’s go inside. We should have the courtesy of giving Coulson a heart attack only after pie, you know?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't truly think Daisy will leave her mission at SHIELD to lead a quiet life, but a girl can dream.


	8. Movie night (G)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Daisy, Fitz and Simmons get together for regular movie nights. With Jemma on a trip, Daisy kees up the tradition in hope of getting Fitz on board with something else.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> From a prompt that requested "Popcorn, blanket fighting, spoilers?".
> 
> This fills the "FitzDaisy: movie night" square in my [ MCU Bingo Card](http://florchis.tumblr.com/post/174965037436/this-is-the-temporary-masterpost-i-will-be-using)
> 
> I'm accepting prompts for it and for my[ MCU Kink Bingo Card.](http://florchis.tumblr.com/post/175123302736/mcu-kink-bingo-card-2018) too. If you want, you can look for some inspiration in my [Visual Prompts List](http://florchis.tumblr.com/post/174316812926/visual-promptswriting-references) (warnings for NSFW descriptions and links that take to NSFW pictures).

Jemma frowns her nose in distaste and Daisy looks around, searching for the parent who is letting their child misbehave too much, or the frat boys who are sending lewd looks their way. She finds nothing of the sort, nor other things that could have displeased Jemma, and when she turns back to her friend in confusion, she discovers that she is the person Simmons is judging with that passive-aggressive stare into the contents of her cart.

“Are you planning on feeding a small army while I am away, Daisy?”

Daisy flushes while following Jemma’s line of sight- pretzels, microwave popcorn, Oreos, you name it. It kind of looks like she is going to throw a party on her absence, and she can understand Jemma’s distrust.

“Um, no. But Fitz is still coming for movie night.”

Jemma rolls her eyes while firmly placing one of the Oreos package back on the shelf.

“How many times do I have to tell you? If you feed him, you will never get rid of him.”

Okay, truth is, Daisy was planning on telling her roommate, of course. But she is really bad at keeping track of time, and the day of Jemma’s departure has arrived without her having an opportunity to talk to her best friend about the crush she is sporting on her lab partner turned semi-permanent fixture of their apartment. Well, now is as good a moment as any, she supposes.

“Maybe I don’t wanna get rid of him?”

“Wh-? Oh!” Jemma pauses, a bag of marshmallows stilling on her hands, clearly processing. Daisy wrings her hands in nerves. _ “Oh.” _

“Yeah, oh indeed.” She waits a minute longer, but when Jemma doesn’t elaborate, presses the obvious question. “Is that okay?”

That seems to snap Jemma out of it, because she frowns, and moves away the hand holding the bag that Daisy is trying to snatch back.

“Why it wouldn’t be okay? I love you both, Daisy, but I’m not in love with either of you and I want you both to be happy. I just don’t understand why you need a family bag of Doritos to seduce him.”

Daisy dives in the cart before Jemma can do it herself, and holds the affronted bag tight against her chest.

“Haven’t you heard? The way to a man’s heart is through his stomach.”

“Fine.” Jemma raises her hands in surrender, letting the marshmallows fall back in the cart. Luckily they are a light thing and don’t crush the rest of her precious provisions. “But I’m not taking either of you to the doctor when you are suffering from high cholesterol, high blood pressure, high-”

Daisy grins at her, her heart soaring at the easy approval of her friend.

“You know you will do it anyway, even if just to lecture us about it again.”

Jemma looks at her and sighs.

“Yes. Yes, I will.”

* * *

Fitz throws himself down on the couch with a soft  _ oomph, _ and hugs a cushion to his chest.

“Here is the reason I could never stop coming to this apartment. This couch. My one true love.”

Daisy would protest, but he looks so blissful with his blonde curls falling off the edge of their well-used, well-loved aquamarine couch that she can only beam at him. She sits down next to him with the popcorn on her hands, and he scoots a little to the other side to leave her more room, and she can’t help but feel disappointed.  _ Patience, Daisy. You already knew this was an endurance test.         _

“Hope we are at least a nice bonus on top off the couch, hmm?”

He looks at her, his eyes big and earnest, and doesn’t even say anything, just nods enthusiastically. It is cute until she realizes he doesn’t speak because he already has his mouth full of popcorn. She punches him on the shoulder, and he starts complaining until he realizes that he can’t speak with his mouth this full, so instead he pouts. Daisy laughs, the tension about this moment she has been building inside her head starting to dissipate.

“You can’t start eating the popcorn before we’ve even chosen the movie!”

He finally swallows and has the decency to look sheepish.

“Sorry, you are right. What do you wanna watch?”

“Dunno.” She turns on the TV and runs through her Netflix list. “We can’t watch anything I’ve promised Jemma. I don’t know  _ how, _ but she will know it, and she is terrifying.”

“Right?? That’s why I don’t agree to watch anything with her, only documentaries that nobody else would like to watch with me.”

“Hey! I love documentaries!”

Fitz raises an eyebrow at her, and Daisy feels herself flushing.

“I’m talking ‘life of a Nobel prize winner’ documentary, not ‘the last three days of Marilyn Monroe’ documentary.”

This time, she is the one who pouts at him, not worrying about looking dignified.

“I would let you know, Leopold James Fitz, that I am  _ smart. _ ”

His eyes widen, panicked, and he rushes to rectify himself, his hands finding hers at the sides of the popcorn bowl.

“That’s not what I meant! Of course you are smart! In fact, there is no actual correlation between liking science documentaries and being smart.”

A small smile breaks on her face, and she wonders if she might be glowing, with how warm her chest feels. 

“Have you tested it?”

His eyes are shining, and she swears her heart makes a somersault, scientific accuracy be damned. 

“For you? I would.” Daisy moves an inch closer to him, and he seems to realize maybe he has spoken too much, and places both his hands in front of his chest. Daisy tries to keep down the desire to grab them and kiss his palms. “I, I mean, um, for, um. For science! For science, I would.”

He looks so terrified she decides to back off a little.

“What you wanna watch, then?”

He scratches the back of his neck, and Daisy wants to tell him that there is no need to be nervous around her, which is a true statement even if he doesn’t reciprocate her feelings, but knowing Fitz, that would only make him more nervous. 

“Maybe we can find a neutral ground?”

“Neutral ground is code for Disney movies?”

He laughs.

“You know me so well, Daisy.”

She prides herself on her voice not coming out choked with emotion when she replies, “Of course. On one condition.”

“And what would that be?”

She places the popcorn bowl on the floor and jumps to her feet. Fitz immediately leans down to grab a handful, and she slaps his hand away. 

“Disney movies require an absurd amount of pillows and blankets.”

His face lights up, and he forgets all about pretending to be wounded holding his hands close to his chest.

“Now we are talking.”

* * *

They carry an armful of blankets each, and pillows enough to host the biggest pillow fight ever, and they sort themselves out on the floor, their backs against the couch, and a considerable blanket nest around them. Daisy calls dibs first, dimmers the lights and puts on  _ Mulan. _ They don’t exactly watch it, more like they either crunch happily on their snacks or their sing loudly over the characters, and get into a passionate argument about gender identity in the middle of the movie. It’s everything Daisy wanted it to be, and the small fear she was still holding about how things could get awkward without Simmons to mediate between them, dissipates completely.

When the movie ends, Fitz leans across her lap to put on his own selection-  _ The Sword in the Stone- _ , and Daisy’s heart rate picks up. She doesn’t want to make any assumptions, but he doesn’t move back to his original spot, and she relishes on his closeness and the uneven rhythm of his breathing. She gives him the bowl with the snacks to have an excuse to move even closer to him, and he places an arm across her shoulders, holding her sideways. This time, they don’t eat that much, but instead, Daisy watches the movie with the volume very low, and listens to him telling the story of how he used to watch it as a kid, and using it as a detonator to speak about his hometown, his childhood years, his mum. Around the middle of the movie, she starts trembling, and- despite the fact that they have enough blankets to bury a body underneath them- Fitz drapes her in the same one he is using, rearranging their position so she is almost sitting on his lap, her head on his chest. She could fall asleep like this, his nice voice lulling her into a calm, dreamy state, and his warmth making her feel safe, and yet she doesn’t, wanting to remember every second of the contact.

By the time the credits of the second movie start rolling, Daisy supposes it should be her turn to propose a new one, but that would mean that one of them should move, and she... kind of doesn’t want that. So instead, she waits for him to be the one to call it to attention, and she can’t help a little thrill when it takes him a good while to speak.

“I’m glad you invited me tonight, Daisy.” His voice is warm, and when she looks up at his face, he is looking at her too, which makes her realize that their faces are barely inches apart. “I wasn’t sure you truly liked me beyond tolerating me for Jemma’s sake, and I had a great time.”

“It was my pleasure.” It sounds a little formal, especially for her, but it’s the only reply she can find that doesn’t involve spilling everything that is going on inside her head.

He laughs, a little self-deprecating, and Daisy frowns.

“Yeah, I can only imagine. I appreciate it, but let’s be honest here: you did it so I wouldn’t feel so lonely with Simmons gone. I mean, it’s not like a smart, funny, pretty girl like you doesn’t have other options but to hang out with me.”

He is rambling, and while she is a big defender of ‘confidence is sexy’, Daisy can only be moved by the nerves Fitz is showing; she has seen him bragging about stuff, and the fact that he is so insecure about this indicates how much he cares. Maybe it’s time that she shows him her cards a little so he knows he is moving on safe ground. 

“Hey, Fitz. You are right.” He looks crestfallen, and she stops him moving his arm by holding tight onto his t-shirt. “I have plenty of options of people to hang out with. And among all of them, I chose  _ you.” _ His breath hitches and his eyes find hers, uncertain. Daisy holds his gaze, trying to communicate to him the camaraderie and the affection she feels for him, and even the hopes she holds for the future. “Would you choose me?”

There has always been, a tiny little doubt on her mind, that tells her that he probably is in love with Simmons and that they would make a perfect match. Luckily, that doubt doesn’t even have time to start awakening again on her brain that he is kissing her. 

It’s not a perfect kiss, nor she was expecting one. His mouth tastes like the stale popcorn he insisted on eating till the bowl was empty, and there are Pringles crumbs everywhere on the blanket they are sharing, and his nose bumps against her cheek in two different occasions. But he reciprocates the same enthusiasm she is pouring onto the kiss, and his hands are soft and gentle on her neck while he bites at her lower lip, his body fully pointed on her direction, and she is drowning on his attention in an exhilarating way.

When they break apart, his lips are shining, and she wants to kiss him again as soon as possible, and that is a huge indicator of how well this turned out.

“I think it’s your turn to choose the movie.” His voice comes out rough, and though he promptly clears his throat, it makes a tingling rise inside her chest that she wants to explore further. She is about to tell him so, to demand that he forgets about the movie and focus on her instead, but the request is aborted when he pushes away her hair to lean over her and place a kiss just behind her ear. It draws a moan out of her, and she can feel him smiling against the sensitive skin of her neck, his warm breath sending shivers down her spine. “Make sure that is one we can  _ not  _ watch while we make out.”

She places a hand on his head to guide him to her preferred spots, and he goes willingly. 

“I don’t think I can do that while you are doing this.”

He moves apart enough to flash her a grin, and dives back in with even more eagerness.

“Good.”  

**Author's Note:**

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